Porcelain
by Touch of Gray
Summary: Because we're a little bit like dolls. The only perfect things about us are the things we paint on, and the only consistent thing about us is that we're breakable. [Penelo angst. One shot.]


( **porcelain **)

We're always strongest when we're pretending not to fall apart. You know, when you feel like the entire world is caving in, and you're _this close_ to shattering like glass or a porcelain doll?

I've always felt a little bit like one of those dolls. When I was young, I got one of those - which was something big, because they were expensive and no one had the money, but it was my fifth birthday, and I remember telling my dad about this one that I had seen in a store that looked like me, only prettier. When he gave it to me, he told me that I was prettier than any doll money could buy, and he had made sure to get me that doll to prove it.

It sat up on a shelf in my room. Vaan used to come in every now and then and tease me for playing with dolls, and I had to explain to him about eighteen times that you don't play with porcelain dolls, because they're fragile and expensive, and playing with them is too dangerous. The last time I told him that was just after his parents died, and I remember he got this wierd look on his face (he'd been acting odd, but who wouldn't have?) and just asked, _Well, then, why keep it? What's the point of a toy you can't play with?_

Vaan was always smarter when he wasn't trying to be. It goes back to that being strongest when you're just about to collapse. All those good traits we wish we could be - they're always there in brightest color when we're about to lose them. I think that's why Ashe seems like such a strong person. She's barely hanging on.

I wonder, sometimes, if she ever cried over her brothers, or her parents. People remember that she lost her husband two years ago, but do they also remember that she lost her father? Maybe... Maybe when she was little, she crawled up on his lap and begged him to tell her a story. Maybe she called him daddy. Maybe he gave her a porcelain doll to remind her that she was beautiful.

I became a dancer because I had to. My mother had been a dancer when I was young, and she taught me all these steps, but then she said that the real beauty of dancing is in the improvising. In the taking what you know and making something else from it. I began to dance when my parents died because there wasn't any other way to get money. I pretended that my mother was watching from the sideline (like she always did when I tried to make up my own dance) and would tell me what to do next, how to fix this part, what was awkward. But instead, I just got Migelo telling me it was great, and Vaan acting like he'd been watching.

I almost wanted someone to tell me I was doing it all wrong, just so I could feel human again. Only porcelain dolls never make mistakes, and only then because their perfection is painted-on.

My porcelain doll is broken now, shattered into a million pieces. It happened just after my parents died, when Dalmascan soldiers rushed in, moving people out because of gunfire and magickal attacks going everywhere. I hadn't known what had happened, but Vaan ran in and grabbed my arm, started trying to pull me out. A soldier took my other arm - they were saying things but I don't remember what. I do remember trying to get back to my room, trying to get the doll, because it was expensive and Father would be hurt if I lost it.

Neither of them would let me return, and by the time everything had settled down, the entire house was in pieces. I don't remember crying over my parents, or at the funeral, or when I was told they were dead.

I cried when I found the shattered doll, though. Vaan says that was the only time I did. Only a few days later, we were herded into Lowtown, and I had to start finding ways to survive again. I don't think about the doll much anymore, because if I do, I'll start to crack again, and there isn't any time to break down when you're trying to save your country.

I don't think about the past much at all. I don't think any of us do. I do think, though, that for all of our talk of not being able to change it, we kind of wish we could. Because if we could change the past, then maybe we could fix ourselves. Or, if we could change the past, then maybe we could change other people, too. But I don't think about it. Thinking too much turns us fragile, and now there's no time for fragility.

Like Vaan said that one time, what's the point of a toy you can't play with? What's the point of a fight you can't win?

We're never gonna make war go away for good. Saving Dalmasca for now is great, but how many years down the road will it be before something else happens? And then, they won't have an Ashe to run in and save them, or a Larsa to make peace, or a Vaan to make a joke and ease the tension.

It's nice to look at. That's what I told Vaan about the doll. It's pretty, and it's something to hold onto, even if it's about to be broken. That's when it's most important to hang on, because in a moment, it'll be gone, and you'll never be able to touch it again, no matter how close it feels. It's the same with being alive. When you're about to fall apart, that's when it's most important to be strong, because if you let go too early, you may never see it again.

Because we're a little bit like dolls - the only perfect things about us are the things we paint on, and the only consistent thing about us is that we're breakable. We're kindest when we want to scream, and toughest when we're tearing apart. Most fragile when we need to be strong, and strongest when we're weak.

We've pulled ourselves together to fight an impossible war because no one else will. And we're hanging on to things we know we can't keep because they'll linger after they're gone. Because Ashe will always wear Rasler's ring, and Fran will never be able to forget what the wood sounds like. We're fighting for something that can never last because we'll be able to taste it, if only for a second, and maybe we'll always remember what peace felt like.

And maybe that's part of being alive. Maybe that's enough.  
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(A/N: Hmm. A little melancholy, but I'm in a melancholy mood, so there's why. Review if you like.)


End file.
